CAG
by hystericalselcouth
Summary: AU version of the Magnussen story line. Same setting and time period, different circumstances. Written to fill in an idea.
1. Chapter 1

Once Sherlock had managed to pick Mycroft's elaborate locks, the smell that embraced him made him expect something…..unusual. More unusual that everyday, that he found was more than just unusual.

* * *

Mycroft was sitting calmly on the sofa. He seemed fine, no sign of injury, no sign of fear or panic. As calm and expressionless as ever. It was the man sitting next to him who caused Sherlock's insides to flutter. Charles Augustus Magnussen. The only specific individual he really hated. Apart from his brother, of course. Jim Moriarty? Just a man capable of almost being a friend, not actually one. If Moriarty was the spider at the center of the web, Charles Augustus Magnussen was the wall it failed to climb. The most cruel, shrewd, cunning homo sapien Sherlock had ever known. Sherlock _truly_ despised him.

Despite having a gun to his head, Mycroft casually leaned back against the sofa.  
"Ah, I see that you are already acquainted with our unexpected guest. Do have a seat, Sherlock, I daresay your legs will get tired from standing during the duration of our conversation. Tea?"  
Sherlock took off his coat and cautiously sat on the sofa opposite. He gave no sign of acknowledging Mycroft's monologue, he only kept his eyes fixed on Magnussen. He intern, had his eyes fixed on Sherlock.

Mycroft began, "Now, as our love birds have found love at first sight," he paused as he saw the unflinching eyes fixed at each other showing no sign of change, "so does my office and our cousins across the pond."


	2. Chapter 2

In this chapter, I MEAN NO ENIMITY TOWARDS COUNTRIES OR PRIVATE COOPERATIONS OR PEOPLE OR PLACES. I'M ONLY BRINGING IN CURRENT EVENTS AND I DO NOT IMPLY ANYTHING IN THIS CHAPTER! Please, it's just fanfiction! All things in this are meant to be fictional. *scuttles away in fear*

"Mr. Magnussen," Mycroft Holmes' deep, diplomatic voice resounded in the wood-paneled room.

The three men had moved from the elder Holmes' living room and into the personal office of the British Government, the Secret Service and on-again off-again CIA.

"I hope you do not plan on starting a world war over a _television programme_," continued Mycroft.

"I assure you, that's not how I had planned the outcome of my investment," replied the man seated across the long table, casually taking a sip of gold liquid from a cut glass.

"I hardly think miscommunication was the cause of that, given your line of….work," smirked Sherlock, who was sat next to Mycroft, legs on the table, in front of his older brother.

"Right now our cousins are contemplating assertive moves, which, I assure you, will be nothing short of disastrous. Even I cannot tame the forces of a nation which thinks it can dominate the world," said Mycroft exasperatedly, "and given the outcome of those elections in Korea, I hardly think the world needs another Iraq."

"I am a businessman and a business must…adapt," Magnussen's face feigned sorrow and remorse, "to the given circumstances, however unfortunate they may be."

"I don't think you understand, Mr. Magnussen. I'm not giving you a choice. Pull. Your men. Back." Mycroft almost spat the words down the long table.

"Publishing the content online before either of the governments can stop it? Boring…..but effective."

"The compliment is much appreciated, Mr. Holmes."

"As much as I find you pretty banter amusing, Mr. Magnussen here must give me his assurance that there will not be a single second of that video posted online before official authorities send word."

"Everything comes with a price, Mr. Holmes," Magnussen paused, "or should I say, Lord Holmes."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "There's no need for that," he said wryly, "it's not official yet, is it?"

Sherlock had fully turned towards his brother, an incredulous look of shock sprawled across his face.

"Nor is there any need for that expression, Sherlock, I'm sure you knew."

"I knew, but I didn't believe you had actually accepted!"

"It seems I have no say in it. Her Majesty's Prime Minister can be very…..stubborn."

"Something to do with the undergraduate club, was it?"

Mycroft looked at his brother, an eyebrow raised in a bored manner.

"So, what shall it be, silence or the ruins of the coffers which hold your purses?"

"No, no, Mr. Holmes, the question is mine to ask. Which would you prefer online in the next 48 hours? The television videos or the Baroness of Shrewsbury's compromising ones?"

"Sherlock, get your legs off the table."


	3. Chapter 3

Hello!  
So, I had sorta-kinda abandoned this fic here, but I kept working on the story, (which included research, mind you) and while I was doing so, moved to archiveofourown. The finished story doesn't quite take the same route as what I had planned for it while posting it here, but nonetheless, I have a finished one with the same general outline. I'll be happy to post it here if people want, but in the meanwhile, you can read the completed version under the name 'CTF-345' by 'hystericalselcouth' on archiveofourown.

Cheers!


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